Claustrophobia
by Hello-PandaDreams
Summary: Lapis and Jasper find themselves locked in a janitorial closet, sparking Lapis' claustrophobia. In an attempt by Jasper to help calm her down, things get fluffy. With a sudden idea on how to escape, however, things get slightly more angsty. Generally though things are just super gay. - A rp played out by me (@Mirroriisms) and Gabby (@Jasprrs) on tumblr, edited for easier reading


\- An rp played out by me ( Mirroriisms) and Gabby ( Jasprrs) on tumblr, edited for easier reading enjoyment. Completed work, hope you enjoy!

Lapis was starting to think she just had a knack for getting herself trapped in places she didn't want to be. A mirror, a ship's rudimentary jail cell, the bottom of the ocean ... and now a dusty old supply closet.

Somewhere along the line of all these events she found herself with a growing anxiety of these small, closed spaces. And to complicate matters even more, _**she wasn't alone this time**_. The quartz with her taking up even more of the limited space.

Their reactions to the situation were worlds apart. Jasper's to immediately try breaking down the oddly impenetrable human construction, and her own to recoil as far back as she could physically bring herself. As if it would somehow allow her to sink right through the floor.

The cyan gem wasn't crying, not yet anyway. But her chest heaved sporadically, breaths short and gasping in no particular pattern. Although curled in that little ball in the dark it may be hard to tell.

Afraid of large expanses of water, yet afraid of spaces too small and closed. If she wasn't already a walking contradiction, she _absolutely_ was now.

From past experience, the tawny hued gem tended to be the only person who could make out her quiet murmurs around the barn. Muttered words clear as church bells. It made the lazuli more than aware the larger gem could probably hear her little insufflations. Though the thought if it proved only to make things worse. If by sliver of a chance the brute hadn't heard her show of weakness before, the larger gasp the cobalt gem was forced to take in a sorry attempt to make up for lost breath surely gave her away.

"Hey! There're people in here you idiot!" A roar that quakes the walls - it should have been heard throughout the entire building with the volume, the power of her voice. But several tense, muffled seconds of silence brings…. nothing. Not the jingle of keys at the door, not the apologetic groveling of the senile organic that'd thrust them into this cruddy situation. And an ochre fist strikes the door again, and again, and _again_. Infuriated snarl carved onto striped features.

The obstacle should be going down, caving around her hand like foil. What'd the humans enforce this with?! But when the knolling of indestructible metal fades, there's just deafening silence again, her own rattling breathing ( It doesn't matter about her past. She doesn't like being confined **period** . It feels wrong ), eyes set softly aglow in the dark.

Sights that resemble a feline's - of course she can see Lapis, curled into herself in the corner. Of course she can see the shuddering of shoulders, the way fingers dig into her arms, and the quartz' breath stills, cuts itself off, stagnant and unneeded in artificial lungs.

"Lapis?" Rumbling timbre made coarse from yelling needlessly at the wall, brows buckling with vexation — and then it strikes her. Confined. Malachite. Her cell. The mirror.

So that they're not submerged completely in the dark, orange light illuminates from its power source, her gem, like a dimmed, faux sun. Dim enough that Lapis is still half cloaked in shadow, if she just wants to just... turn around or something. "Lapis." Spoken once again, to try to tug her from _whichever_ nightmare she's reliving. "We're just locked in some closet. It's alright."

And what is Lapis' excuse? What is she supposed to say in return? Of course it's stupid. It's a closet full of mop buckets and window cleaner. There's a reason they call it an _irrational_ fear. Yet even when it's snowing she demands an open window, never takes the elevator no matter how many flights of stairs it costs her, she can't even sleep without the door open anymore.

The voice draws her from her ovoid position, husky and yet still as thick and sweet as some dark golden honey even after so much powerful yelling.

Dark blue eyes draw up to meet with lustrous yellow, just as they'd done time and time again. She can see with the dimmest of light as well - not so much like a cat but more of a deep ocean fish grown accustom to pitch black darkness. The bio-luminescence that flickers from between lithe shoulder blades may as well be her lure.

The pain in her chest is still there, and her breathing still holds the occasional hiccup, but at least now she seems to be holding it together…somewhat.

"We're still **stuck** here. How is it alright?"

" - 'least we're not **dying** ."

A juvenile, thoughtless retort ( and she is quick to shut her mouth, teeth clicking audibly with the force. Taking her agitation out on Lapis, she doesn't deserve that. Will only make things worse ), and silence swallows them into its yawning mouth once more.

Broken only by the hitching breaths forcing themselves from the other gem's chest, by Jasper's even, deepened ones. It had been like this in Malachite, sometimes. Listening to each other's paced inhales, exhales until one of them inevitably snapped.

It's like this until the shuffle of feet against the ground breaks the rhythm.

Those words are obviously ones the lazuli doesn't need to hear. Even the smallest suggestion of her demise in this tiny box of a room is nearly enough to send her back into a nail biting, feverish panic.

Before the weight in her chest can become to unbearable to try and contain any longer, she finds herself attuning to the sound of heavy boots on an unfinished cement floor. And suddenly she's no longer alone on this dirty ground, clearly having gone on without cleaning possibly since the building was put in place.

The surprise is a better distraction from her phobias then the words the quartz is now tripping over.

"Look; it's not…. _alright_ , but-" Attempts to comfort are _clumsy_ at best. How could they not be? A gem made to carry out the very **opposite** of what comforting was _supposed_ to be. And had this been anyone else but her - only because she understands this fear, to a degree - she wouldn't have even bothered.

"We're not alone, right? I'm here, you're here, we aren't trying to kill each other. So I think that's alright." Lips quirk crookedly, broad shoulders connect to the wall before the quartz is sliding down to accompany Lapis on the floor, sitting easily beside her, powerful frame far less tensed and seized by fear. "Focus on something else. Like your irritating pumpkin... or try to. It'll help." She's….. focused her gaze on the other, but it's less sharp and prying. More warm amber than scrutinizing yellow.

It's not happy laughter that leaves the water witch, rather a breathy and stressful snicker. There's a smile present, but a fleeting and ironic one.

"You're bad at this… And veggiehead isn't annoying. You are." Hollow words, too tired to even fake a bite to them.

At least she's earned something for her fumbling attempts at calming, and a laugh rumbles from the tawny gem's throat in something akin to hollow amusement. "Yeah, I know. Don't gotta point it out." There are plenty of things she's willing and ready to deny. Weaknesses, namely. But this … this is so far out of her depth that she can accept it.

Beats of silence sail by. They're used to this - always have been. This quiet that occasionally blankets the both of them, and Jasper allows her had to tilt back so that the base of her skull rests against the wall. Mane squished against her back, the unruly ends of it no doubt tickling the other's arm. Only offers a grunt, an annoyed flick of eyes before tension draws itself back into her shoulders, because Lapis is reaching over - blue and orange skin meeting like some ocean horizon and burning sunset as the other is pressing their palms together curiously; turning the appendages here and there as she examines the difference in size and shape. What is she doing?

She jumps. Her throat's become a desert, heat rushing from her neck to plague her face, and her gem abruptly dims so that they're cloaked in darkness once more, save for the muted blue of the teardrop. Thought processes have frozen, because if they were in working order, she would have wrenched her arm away the second nimble fingers spread across a calloused palm with a snarl, mapping out lines, rotated their hands like the sight's something to be inspected. Nobody's - ( her hands haven't been held like this ... idly, without fear, **ever** , in all her years of existing ), and to think that this is _Lapis_ ( Lapis, whom she'd pulled around, sunk her claws into, thought she'd never want to touch the brute of a gem again ) doing so ...

Finally, the words unclog themselves from her straining frame.

"What are you _doing_?" A defensive growl to her tone. Still, the arm doesn't yank itself away, walking contradiction that she can be. Red against blue, flames on water, and the quartz' digits twitch around the tiny palm cradled in her hand, just barely, a flammable oil spill just waiting to happen...

The sudden change in the quartz' mannerisms don't go entirely unnoticed, although right now the lazuli is still a bit too distracted to care.

It's easier now that she has grown more comfortable with the striped gem, slowly gaining an understanding of her actions and tones. A harsh word doesn't always mean a harsh action will follow. And most days she can ignore the intimidation and hold her own instead of flinching the moment things turn slightly sour. Still, at times she can find it like being in a room with a scary looking dog. Tense and weary.

But along with the tensing shoulders she also notices tawny fingertips twice the size of her own brushing against pale teal. And maybe it's this alone that keeps her from withdrawing apologetically and returning to her sulking state.

A shrug is her only response as she spreads her fingers as far as the projected skin and muscle will allow her - only in order to be able to fit each rougher digit between the spaces. Seeming satisfied, she places the mess of tangled appendages in her silken lap, head almost immediately lifting and searching for a new distraction.

The shrug is so flippant and nonchalant that she wonders if they're even still holding hands. So dismissive that the quartz is almost offended ( were this any of the other gems, she would've tossed them - but then again, maybe she knows that ), arm still going along with the motions. Palm up, dainty fingers seeking the gaps between hers until they're locked together, and all Jasper can do is huff and force her gaze to the ceiling when it's brought over to her lap.

She's fine with not addressing it ( they don't address a lot of things, really ). It's almost easier this way. Her hand twitches again, so that she's holding hers back.

It's quickly that a cyan, slender leg extends. Not _quite_ reaching all the way down to her larger company's foot, but close enough to still make note of their clad and unclad feet.

"You should let me try on your boots."

A wary gaze flicks to the extending leg — what?

"No."

She's being weird again, but there's hardly any shock present on striped features anymore. This is normal, apparently. And her gruff tone surfaces, flat and unimpressed.

"They'd swallow you whole. Don't think you'd even be able to walk in them - and it's your fault you like to go everywhere barefoot, anyways," Jasper drawls, the base of her skull gently meeting the wall again.

Thoughts drift to the old human returning … when will that happen? But a thumb idly, thoughtlessly draws across the side of an azure hand ( she can't be still. Constantly needs to be moving. ) and leg wrought with muscle, meant for kicking and crushing, shifts, if only to compare.

"… Your leg looks like a blue twig."

A more chipper noise of amusement. The lapis is not exactly made to be so graceful and elegant. At least not like pearls are. More than the Jasper sitting beside her, perhaps. Some days it even brings her down. To be stuck in limbo between being beautiful and strong. She feels so _average_.

But still the aforementioned leg bends and then straightens again in one long extension, foot nearly between both their heads now.

"Some people would think it looks pretty." The stupid jab has somehow coaxed a small grin out of her. And for the first time since getting into this stupid situation, she's managed to calm down.

The fingers stroking against her own are… nice. They're rough and worn but not necessarily unpleasant to the touch. The quartz naturally runs hotter than herself, and while it doesn't have any _real_ effect on the gem ... it's so faintly noticeable.

"Mm, _some_." A flicker of something playfully furtive before golden eyes dart away, unwilling to hold whatever stares they might exchange now, hands locked, in the dark. It hadn't quite been this dark shackled to the ocean's floor, shackled to each other, where no light from above could reach, where currents as frigid as the black spaces between the stars could be. But it still serves as a subtle reminder —- only instead of callous chains holding her, it's …a soft hand.

And for a moment the lazuli can't help but think how stupid it is.

Wildly inappropriate because of their mutually chaotic, violent past. They should be on opposite sides of the room, keeping to themselves - but Jasper's pulled to the gravity of her, unable or _unwilling_ to fight it, a blistering sun circling the deep gloom of a black hole. The quartz wasn't made to be tender or gentle - she'd been made to be all bristling teeth and claws, wide predatory eyes and an unending river of wrath and brutality.

How can this touch, these hands, Jasper's presence make her so _overwhelmingly_ calm? The fingers wrapped around her own she has felt so many times before. Forceful, domineering, desperate. The ankle she's holding inches from the quartz' face _bruised_ before by the hands now actively kept in her lap. And Jasper, too, by no means should be allowing this. She was vicious, malign, so terrible and rancorous. Heavy, burdenous chains both physical and mental dug and _bit_ into those striped, burnt amber wrists. Yet now she allows for the lazuli to interlock their digits without so much as an explanation, **promotes** the action, even.

On the floor here it's cold, dark. And everything is so similar to their leviathan of a fusion in every way - and yet none at all.

Then the thought hits her.

It's like a fist to the face, getting dunked in a bath of ice water. All at once she has let go of the hand so tenderly cradling her own, scrambling to stand and step away from the boulder of the gem pressed to the wall. Her heart is pounding again, not with anxiety and fear this time - although maybe it is - but rather with a sudden punch of adrenaline and dare she say hope. Her eyes are even bigger then normal as she watches the quartz, wide with a certain desperation.

The force with which Lapis tears away from her is enough to startle - suddenly on guard, arm snatched to herself as a breath hisses from between clenched teeth. The atmosphere rends itself into something heavy and tense, and the quartz brings herself to stand as well, shoulders risen like the hackles of a beast. "What do you-"

" **Let's be Malachite again.** "

Words come to haunt her, and they wear Lapis' voice, hijack her mouth to say them. Pupils shrink to slits - whether from fear or uncertainty, she doesn't know, but the notion calls to her still ( like a rehabilitated addict faced with the drug of their desire - her form trembles, and oh, she longs to take a step forward ), but something holds her back. A shred of reason, of rationality. " —- Lapis,"

It's a warning, gaze just as reckless, but already, her gem beckons for the other in the form of faint, golden glow. Maybe they can get it right this time... Maybe they can coexist and not become destructive forces tied to one another, maybe...

"If something goes wrong, I'm breaking it off."

It's a yes. An ochre hand slowly rises, palm up. An echo of a crashed warship, emerald flames, the mimic of a gesture, only her own banded features aren't withdrawn, aren't caustic.

"Only until we're out."

It doesn't need to be said, but the blue gem reiterates it again, fingers twitching at her sides nervously, pressing each smaller digit against her thumb individually. The words come clearer then she would have thought. Granted, with over three thousand years of not speaking, none of her words are filled with much verity or pitch anymore. It's too much focus just to keep from tripping and stuttering over sentences.

The dim blue that has followed behind her this entire time now soaks the walls, paints the tiny closet like a moonlit midnight. It's almost hard to tell the difference now, between the light that emits from her and the occasional wings that fail to remove her from a situation time and time again.

It's not just Jasper. She worries about herself, too. About all the things she has so **strongly** convinced herself she _is_ , and whether they are _true_ or a product of self loathing she does not know. She worried About words the gem standing before her now has once uttered on a rocking boat. Of _monsters_ and **power** .

While the others words sound reassuring, She knows better than anyone just how easy it is to fawn a sickening lie. And she doesn't want to doubt, but there's the slightest hint of hunger in reflective yellow eyes. It's a lot of faith to put in someone only a few months ago she was sure she never wanted to see again, in someone as sweet and toxic to her as alcohol is to an alcoholic.

"I'll give you full control, but you have to promise. _**Promise me**_."

"-'Course. Once we get out, we'll stop."

Words Jasper would have gladly spewed out months ago —- voice hinging on feverish, frenzied, pathetically pleading ( power had still been power - even bound in manacles, even weathering the other's fury and flinging it back with feral venom ), while on her knees ( a sight she wouldn't have granted even the diamonds, not unless they'd commanded it ), they're…..

Her voice; although rough, inelegant, low - it doesn't reflect that pining for might and monsters, the negligence and foolhardiness absent. There is a daring edge - but it's warm and reassuring, a yearning to perhaps be close, as opposed to the crazed cravings for something overwhelmingly destructive. Perhaps it's the blue calling to her, instead of poisonous teal.

And swallowing past the dryness in her throat, the lazuli steps hesitantly closer. The entirety of her cobalt hand only grips around two of the quartz' fingers as most - but tightly they do. She can feel her pulse pounding through her entire body now. Her chest, her stomach, her hands…She wonders if the taller woman can feel it too.

Digits curl slowly, almost a beckoning motion, against cool azure within her grasp. She hasn't made a single move forward, allowing Lapis to come to her of her own accord, her cerulean features doused in something akin to the sunset glow of her own gem, blue and orange merging into each other easily against the walls.

"Promise."

She talks like they'll relapse again the longer they're together; former chainsmokers given a whiff of nicotine - maybe she's right. And finally, Jasper shifts closer, face canted downwards, stance allowing the chance for Lapis to lead again in this familiar dance before she gives up control, molten gaze turned ember.

"You can start. I'll follow."

This is dangerous. She should pull away. But adrenaline thrums against her temples like drums, the beating of them growing faster, overruling sense, gaze fixated on wide, desperately searching doe eyes.

 _Leading_ isn't something Lapis has done in…well, **ever** . She's built with a delicate frame, long slender features, long neck and prominent collarbone and shoulder blades - made to be pushed and _pulled_ and tugged and **molded** .

For someone who finds themselves in small spaces so often as of late, the only dances she knows tend to require a wide open area. A place for long elegant strides and wide reaching arms. But among shelves of floor cleaner and brooms none of that is even an option. Instead, she finds herself impossibly close to the rust colored frame. So close she can hear shallow breaths that are not her own. A cobalt hand comes up to rest on a tawny bicep streaked with burning red, her other still clinging to a larger palm. It's a different feeling than the first time. The grip is still tight but not with suffocation, not the intent to overpower and _consume_ one another. Simply to hold, to be near.

What little space remains between them ( it feels more like a gulf, a chasm, a canyon ) begs to be breached — the sharp gold of her gaze bridging it for her, delicate hand moving to rest across a carnelian band, larger one shifting to brush against the elegant curve of a side. It nearly engulfs Lapis — amber against the slopes of her ribcage; contact so starkly different, but it's still magnetic.

It's rare the lazulis heels ever leave the floor, foot bending and arching only reserved for times like these. It's a gentle lead, a change of hand position here, a gentle tug there. A rumba of sorts, be it the most stationary she can manage, arms ever mindful of hanging light fixtures above or a half empty paint can to her right. Slow, yearning. A fire and a flood filling every inch of the walls that surround. And Jasper finds herself following the lazuli seamlessly, as attentive, observant as she is powerful. Feet weaving and missing the legs of rusted cabinets, movements complementing and switching in accordance —-

Until at some point she just… stops. The need to fill the remaining inches of distance so overwhelming it rips her at the seams. It's lips that make contact instead of eyes now. Course and rough just like everything else the soldier is made to be. It burns and lingers like a sip of coffee just below scolding, but she can't bring herself to wait for it to cool.

Any doubts ... the quartz blocking them out now. Smothering them. It's not difficult - following the graceful arcs of her arms, her skirt, no longer wondering if Lapis will drown her again or whether she'll be burned in turn. It's just them, in the dark once more, and she doesn't seem to notice when they've stopped moving, sights trained on the ocean gem with her full attention.

That odd stare they'd share at times ensues, until either chooses to break it. And it does break, but it's with a mouth pressed to her own instead of the shift of eyes. Soft, but it feels as if lightning's been injected into the gem, a warm rumble from her throat to accompany it until the roaring within her ears becomes —-

The act of fusing into the giant sea serpent is enough to break into the floor above the small storage space, as well as two adjacent walls. Thankfully, no one is around the destruction to be hurt by collateral damage. But then, even Lapis doubts her mind would be in a place to care.

The same. But different. The prison absent, the acerbic quality gone - held together not by mutual fury or hate, it's…. just different. Where they entwine, wash over each other like tide and shore, and it's….. almost calm. Lapis is not in control this time. No chains to cause sore wrists and the insides of her palms, no water to wade, so struggle to breathe.

Not in control. And she doesn't feel the need.

It feels _euphoric_. This time not due to the negative energy she expels onto the other gem, not through bitterness or virulence. It's the opposite of what things once were. The feeling of warm sand between her toes instead of that frigid water. A gentle glow of a setting sun where the blackness of the abyssal zone held none. Clear, sparkling waters of a tropical coast. Yes, tranquil. Safe.

But their fusion retains one goal in mind, to break down the door barring them, and Lapis kept her word - has given her full control ( and there's that temptation — to just _stay_ , this sensation far better, darkly familiar, can't they just — ),

The quartz keeps her word, in turn. Departs from that endless well of power they've created with the task completed ( _**peeling**_ herself away from the other ), but striped arms remain loosely wound around blue, breath quiet, albeit uneven, spine resting against the destroyed frame of the doorway.

Finally, the triumphant, winded tilt of her mouth.

"See? Promised."

It's over too soon. And it's _**disappointing**_ but the cyan body is so _glad_ it's over; only because she knows how _easily_ she would forgive the quartz were they to break her one request. It's **bad** and the realization of how _toxic_ they are is so prominent. But that's just the reality. She'd forgive any lies, any actions, any horrible repercussions if it meant having those brief moments again. To feel better again.

When she can feel her own body again, as well as the one holding her gently despite its design, …she keeps still. Her nose takes in deep inhales of an earthy scent as she keeps her face pressed against a brawny abdomen.

" _Thank you_."

It's mumbled, sounding almost choked until she forces her chin up to meet with saffron eyes. That smile coaxes its way onto her face again. The kind that you can see not only in the small curve of her lips but in big doll eyes as well. She's tired and revealed all at once.

\- Until the world just the two of them have shared for what feels like centuries is finally cut clean by the sound of angry shouts from the throats of scared humans.


End file.
